As soon as Personal Color appeared on the screen, the PR team office fell silent.
Until now, they had been watching the show like office workers watching a soccer match during overtime, but now it was like stockbrokers staring at the graphs.
It meant it was time to get to work.
And the ones who became the busiest were the PR team staff.
In just five minutes or so of Vivid’s stage, they had to summarize promotional points, capture usable screenshots for articles about Personal Color, and find appealing material for entertainment journalists.
However, despite the workload, the PR team members felt somewhat discouraged.
After all, PR was only satisfying when netizens reacted positively, or when reporters from the entertainment department hounded them for better sources.
But judging from the broadcast so far, Personal Color’s role had already been decided.
A team eliminated in Round 1, a sacrifice to generate buzz.
Unless Vivid’s upcoming performance was truly extraordinary, it didn’t seem likely that this perception would be overturned.
And from what they knew of Personal Color, the team didn’t have that kind of ability. If they did, they wouldn’t have made it this far just barely.
Still, work was work.
Determined to find something worth using, the PR staff placed their hands on the keyboard and focused on the TV.
But soon, it wasn’t their hands that were moving—it was their mouths.
“What the hell?!”
“Director Kwon! What is this?!”
When lead vocalist Baek Songyi started singing, the staff didn’t react much.
The opening was solid, but Personal Color had always been technically strong.
But when Riha, standing behind Baek Songyi, began her part, the PR office started buzzing.
Because—
“There’s no cutaway footage at all?”
“No reaction inserts either!”
“Cut baris” was slang in broadcasting for segment editing—cutting shots into parts.
“Inserts” referred to additional scenes interspersed throughout.
Just as the staff shouted, Vivid’s stage lacked the usual choppy editing or abrupt cuts.
And even more shockingly, the screen—normally filled with constant transitions from PD Nam Yunsoo—remained still, almost disturbingly so.
It was as if the only thing the show wanted to present was the song.
Within that stillness, Personal Color’s members poured everything into their singing.
“…Ah.”
Initially surprised by the lack of editing, one by one, the staff began to be astonished by the performance itself.
The Personal Color on the screen wasn’t the same team they thought they knew.
It wasn’t the team that was technically good but lacked heart—the group on the verge of disbanding.
Through Idol War, Personal Color delivered something the six teams before them hadn’t.
Something that stirred the hearts of viewers.
The performance built to its climax.
After Woochan’s rap and Teiji’s singing came Jia’s part.
And in the moment that “actress An Jia” became “singer An Jia,” a PR staff who had been silent until now suddenly screamed.
“O-oh!”
Because every time they hit refresh, a flood of comments was pouring in, too fast to count.
“It’s working! It worked!”
Kwon Hosan, whose face had been sullen and dark, shouted with excitement.
Even though the earlier awkwardness from Personal Color still lingered in his mind, this stage was a successful reversal.
Enough to keep the team intact and move forward with a proper relaunch.
But PD Nam Yunsoo’s twist wasn’t over yet.
In fact, the true reversal was only beginning now.
It started with the chorus of Vivid.
Vivid – Vivid –
This is the moment to shine the brightest
Vivid –
Just as the catchy and easily singable chorus played, the static screen finally changed.
What appeared were the awkward images of Personal Color from before.
Members sitting far apart in the waiting room.
Baek Songyi reaching for a box of bottled water instead of taking the bottle next to An Jia.
But this time, it didn’t stop there.
After Riha left her seat, An Jia was shown placing her cushion on Riha’s chair.
Baek Songyi returned with water bottles for everyone and quietly placed them on the table.
The previously shown awkwardness was now followed by moments of care and consideration.
Behind every awkward scene Personal Color had shown, there had always been kindness.
When the FD delivered lunchboxes and the members sat silently—
—they were waiting for Woochan’s interview to finish so they could eat together.
When Riha winced in pain from her high heels—
—Teiji was later seen slipping slippers next to her without a word.
It was impressive that PD Nam Yunsoo had discovered all of this.
Thanks to his efforts, the viewers could no longer misunderstand Personal Color.
They didn’t hate each other.
In fact, they liked each other.
They just didn’t know how to show it well.
As the insert cuts showing their sincerity came to an end, the chorus of Vivid, previously lowered in volume, returned with full force.
Vivid – Vivid –
Clearer than anything else
Vivid –
The camera zoomed in on the members as they cried on stage.
Slowly.
One by one.
Lovingly.
Soon, the sound of applause and cheers from the audience judges could be heard.
As the applause faded, audio from the post-performance interview began playing.
Even as the members spoke honestly about the issues they had faced, the visuals continued zooming in on each of them.
That was how Idol War ended.
There was no montage or wrap-up after the Vivid performance.
The zoomed-in shot pulled back to a wide angle, showing only the members of Personal Color holding hands.
And maybe that was why the emotional impact of Vivid lingered.
To anyone watching, the true stars of the first Idol War broadcast were Personal Color.
The MOK PR office, now overwhelmed by the unexpected reversal, fell into stunned silence.
The one to break it was Yoo So-yeon, a female staffer from Singer Team B under Team Leader Park Cha-myung.
“Insane…! That was insane, right?!”
Her outburst snapped everyone out of their daze.
“That wasn’t just a hit! That was a megahit!”
“Is one ‘mega’ enough? It was a mega-mega-megahit!”
“Wow, what just happened? Is that really the same Personal Color we saw yesterday?!”
“Oh no, I was so focused I didn’t even take any notes!”
Listening fondly to the team’s excited chatter, PR Team Leader Choi Ki-seok clapped his hands.
“Alright, let’s start organizing material to send to the journalists.”
“Every scene was a highlight—how are we supposed to choose?”
“What do you mean? Jia’s solo gave me chills!”
“I vote for the crying members part!”
“Aww, still, the most touching part has to be when the members were looking out for each other.”
“Totally. And the way the visuals and the music synced up was just perfect. It felt like the song was made just for that scene.”
“But seriously, doesn’t it feel that way? The lyrics themselves talk about personal colors… Ah!”
A staff member from the PR team let out an exclamation.
She had just remembered that all of Vivid’s lyrics were written by Personal Color.
“Wait, so Vivid is like a letter the members wrote to each other?”
At her words, Team Leader Choi Ki-seok nodded.
“You just focus on compiling everything about the song. Don’t worry about anything else. Dig into that song.”
“Yes, sir! I’ll dissect the lyrics to pieces.”
“Don’t just focus on the lyrics. There’s something more unique than that.”
“Huh? Like what?”
Team Leader Choi clicked his tongue.
“Does Vivid sound like your typical hook song?”
“Oh…!”
“The chorus only appears at the end, there’s no part swapping… Do I need to go on?”
“They structured it that way to be more sincere, right?”
“Exactly. And let’s get an interview from Prefer too… Oh, Prefer is handled by this guy here.”
He slung an arm around Seon-ho’s shoulder.
“Can you get an interview with Prefer?”
“If it’s a written interview.”
“Geez, picky as always. Fine, let’s go with written. I’ll draft the questions and you ask them nicely, got it?”
“Understood.”
“And you, you’re doing a written interview too.”
At the unexpected suggestion, Seon-ho tilted his head.
“Me?”
“Who else would it be? Me?”
“But why me?”
“What do you mean why? You were behind every part of this performance from A to Z. The song, the choreography, the lyrics, taking care of everything on set. You even got them the casting, didn’t you?”
Only then did the staff in the office recall that today’s stage had come to life through Han Seon-ho’s hands.
Until now, Seon-ho’s skills were just rumors. But in this moment, there was no longer any doubt.
Hearing Team Leader Choi’s words, Seon-ho asked,
“Even so, would there be any need for me to be front and center?”
“There isn’t yet… but who knows, there might be.”
Choi Ki-seok grinned slyly and nudged him.
“Be honest. You slipped PD Nam Yunsoo some cash, didn’t you?”
“Huh?”
Seon-ho was momentarily flustered but managed to compose himself.
“What do you mean, cash?”
“Otherwise, why would PD Nam feature you so much? Look at you getting all flustered. You totally paid him because you want to debut, didn’t you?”
“It was only three or four times, though.”
“Hey, there are thirty-eight performers on Idol War. Even if each one gets shown three times, that’s over a hundred appearances. And you think three or four is few? Especially when every shot was your best angle?”
As Team Leader Choi pointed out, Seon-ho had indeed been on screen quite a lot.
Especially during the discussion about performance order with Baek Songyi—his voice had even been heard.
Then an older female employee chimed in.
“Oh come on, Team Leader. It’s not that they only showed Seon-ho’s good side. He just looks good no matter how they film him.”
“Oh wow, Ms. Kim, that’s a bold comment.”
“What’s bold about it? I just wish my husband looked half as good as him.”
While everyone was laughing, Team Leader Kang San and his actor management team slipped out of the office with stiff expressions.
Team Leader Park Cha-myung clicked his tongue as he watched them leave.
“Kang San’s way too petty. It’s the first time in three years there’s something to celebrate, and he can’t even say a word?”
He then turned to speak to Kwon Hosan.
“Congratulations, Team Leader. From now on, it’s only uphill from here.”
“Thank you. It doesn’t feel real. This is all thanks to Seon-ho.”
“Han Seon-ho, this guy. Ever since Autumn Leaf, I knew he had potential, but he really pulled something off this time.”
Park Cha-myung patted Seon-ho on the shoulder a couple of times and asked Team Leader Choi,
“Should we have Team B help out a bit too?”
Choi, who had just gotten off the phone, nodded.
“That would be great, actually.”
By then, the PR team’s phones were ringing nonstop.
Reporters, practically reincarnated as oxpeckers, were probably begging for juicy material to write articles with.
Some of those calls were no doubt early attempts to book Personal Color ahead of the competition.
Meanwhile, some staff with morning shifts left the office after offering their congratulations, while others settled in to help the PR team.
Looking around at the PR team still buzzing with energy close to 1 a.m., Seon-ho felt a strange kind of emotion.
He was watching his efforts become someone else’s happiness.
“How do you feel?”
Director Kwon Hosan had quietly approached.
“I don’t know how to put it… but I think I’m happy.”
“The kids in Personal Color are even happier. You should give them a call.”
“You should do it, Director.”
Seon-ho added firmly,
“If it weren’t for you, Personal Color wouldn’t have made it this far. So you should be the one to call.”
Director Kwon hesitated for a moment, then nodded.
While he stepped away to make the call, Seon-ho checked his phone.
It had been vibrating like crazy, and it was now filled with congratulatory messages from all kinds of people.
Of course, Hye-mi, Su-rim, and Hanbit had texted, but also Director Yoo Ayeon and Hyun-seok.
Even “Our Woochan,” whom he had run into at a cafe, had sent dozens of screenshots of online comments, just spamming them to Seon-ho.
Her profile picture had even been changed to a screenshot of Woochan on Idol War.
There were also tons of messages from managers, journalists, broadcasters, and staff from event agencies he’d met at university festivals.
After a moment of thought, Seon-ho started typing a message.
The recipient was PD Nam Yunsoo.
He wrote and deleted, wrote and deleted—until finally, he just sent a short message: “Thank you so much.”
The reply came quickly.
-Don’t mention it. I didn’t do it to get thanks. I did it because I want my program to succeed.
-Still, thank you.
-I only picked that scene because it was the best one for the show. That’s all.
After thinking a bit, Seon-ho sent over a coffee and chicken gift voucher.
That’s when he started to feel the weight of everyone’s eyes on him. Looking around, he saw that most of them were staring.
“What? Is something wrong?”
“Seon-ho, pick up office phone, quick!”
“Me?”
Prompted by a PR staff, Seon-ho answered the call.
“Yes, this is Han Seon-ho.”
—Are you busy right now?
The voice on the line was completely unexpected. While Seon-ho hesitated, it continued.
—If not, come to my office for a bit.
The voice belonged to none other than CEO Kim Dong-han.
TL : Don’t tell me he wants to use Seon-ho just so his son can succeed.
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